Archives for October 2004

Waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. I need the phone to ring and for my realtor to tell me to come sign loan docs.

Erg.

Tap, tap, tap tappity tap.

I could also use more sleep.

HAH! And the phone rang, right then, after I typed that. I’m signing loan docs at 4:30pm today. An hour and a half. Yep. That’s good, right? Fewer things can go wrong now, right? Good god, how excited I am.

I am overwhelmed. And really, I’m overwhelmed, too. I have this new, crazy idea to try (again) to get out of this apartment by the 31st, which would be feasible if I find someone to rent it. There’s the catch. Another open house? Yick. That was like throwing a party at which I knew no one but Lala (but she was enough, really, the life of the party), and I don’t really want to do it again. But it would save me a thousand dollars.

But it’s nice to know I don’t HAVE to find anyone right now. I could take the extra month.

Oh, my god, it’s all happening, isn’t it? I think I’m going to run right now to burn off some of these nerves.

Nice job, knitters! All those crossed needles have been really working hard…..

Thanks for ALL the compliments on Cromarty! I lurve wearing it, I really do. It fits, and it’s soft (Koigu goodness), and when I met Mariko and Marie and Megan for a spot of yarn shopping on Monday, there was a group of knitters at the store. They made me model and spin and show off, and they made a big ole fuss over me. It felt great. And then we had frozen custard. All was right with the world.

Well, on the house front, I have good news. I can call it good news because it’s quite a bit better than bad news, which makes it good, right? My realtor said she talked to the lender’s agent and talked that person into going to the boss’s boss’s boss and telling him that her client “is a dispatcher, and there will be plenty of really unhappy cops and citizens if this girl doesn’t get her loan funded.” That is not true. There would be an unhappy writer/dispatcher/knitter in the Biggety-biggety-O, sure. But who am I to argue with corporate arm-twisting? They say that the boss agreed, and that the loan docs are going to come in any minute. Uh-huh.

Somehow this smacks of the guy at the car dealership shaking his head and saying, “Jaiz, I’d love to help you, but my boss isn’t going to like it. Man, I’d love it if you bought this car. My wife’s divorcing me, and I don’t know where I’m going to get the money for the court battle to see the kids.” (I once had a car salesman tell me exactly that. I waited until I was outside to roll my eyes.) And then he goes in the back room and he and The Boss talk about the Red Sox until he comes back out and says, “I don’t know how I did it, but he agreed. He’ll lower the price by seventy-three cents. Just for you. Whew. Ain’tchew lucky?”

Anyway. None of it sounds real anymore. We’ll just wait and see, and what’s meant to be, will be. I believe that, I really do.

There’s more good news, actually. My landlord called and apologetically said, “Rachael, all the people you sent me from the open house changed their minds or found other places to live. We have to start all over again.” This was the other night, when I thought for sure the lender wasn’t going to come through, so I said, “Oh, GOOD! Can I have it for another month?” I’ve already paid last-month’s-rent, so it won’t be any money out of pocket (a good thing, since I ain’t got none), and no matter what, it’ll either be a place to live, or it’ll give me more time to move. I swear, when I heard that, it was like a migraine lifting. And I didn’t even know I had a headache. I don’t think I knew just how upset I was at moving with no place to go until the fear was given a reprieve.

And I know it’s all happening because I have a lot of knitters’ fingers crossed for me. Y’all must be dropping stitches out there, huh? I appreciate it, SO much.

Love!

She is finished. Hot damn, she’s freaking done!

Specs:
Pattern: Alice Starmore’s Cromarty, from the book Celtic Collection
Yarn: Koigu Kersti merino, in a shade that has defied duplication (trust me on this one)
Needles: 1(US), because I’m out of my mind.
Yarn Provider: The Threadbear Boys. In return for it being a shop model for a while (sadly, during the winter as timing would have it), they provided (most of) the yarn (I felt guilty about my row gauge and bought some of it). So I’ll be wrapping it up and sending it out this week. Whew. And I’ll welcome her back with open arms (after wearing it just once, today, meeting with Mariko and Marie).

A little bit closer:

I’d show you the back, but it’s just more of the same. I tried to get the obligatory lying in on bed shot, but this is all that wanted to show up. The camera kept getting all the squiggles confused.

And a few more friends, because after working on this off and on (as yarn allowed) for eight MONTHS, it’s just ’bout time to break out the bubbly. The Double-barrelled Em:

And my new favorite, The Iris:

Because it’s a partay, and a BIG one, one simply must have a Whack Rabbit shot (also known as Spirit Fingers Gone Wild, Uncensored):

Yeooooowww!

Christy‘s fostering three kittens….

(and Susan B – can you email me again? I’ve lost your address, predictably…..)

So it goes like this: I’m on my couch yesterday afternoon, almost in tears because I’m SO tired and SO scared all of a sudden. I haven’t been sleeping well, waiting for the call from the realtor that never comes.

I call the office. My realtor’s brother says, “Oh, she was going to call you in about two minutes. I just got off the phone with her.”

“Is it good news or bad?”

“Ummm…. mediocre?”

I start to shake. Luckily, she really does call me. This is the sitch. The lender has a problem with the loan because the home-owners’ association ran in the red a couple of years ago. They had a repair that had to be made and there wasn’t enough money in the general fund (because it’s a 4-plex there’s not much money to be had). They don’t like it. My realtor has been fighting with them, and they’re sending it now to Corporate and Legal. The decision should be made by Tuesday (haven’t I heard that before?). My realtor already has another loan package put together and ready to send to another lender, should this one fall through. But will that lender like me? Who knows? They might be happy with the HOA but not with my finances…. The seller, luckily, is willing to wait. A blessing, that.

Anyway. I still have to move. My realtor and her brother have a duplex in a really great area in Piedmont and she wants me to rent it if this drags on a while. I, on the other hand, would be happier couch-surfing if it’s only going to be a few weeks or so. But if the place falls all the way through and I have to start looking all over again, I’ll take the apartment and move twice.

Move twice.

I can hardly bear the thought.

I had a major melt-down on the couch. I called Marama and bawled an unintelligible message on her machine. I grumped out and cried to sister Christy. I told Lala I didn’t want her to come over — I would stick it out myself. I would be strong. I would pack. Then I melted down all over again and asked her to come over. She was amazing and strong and we watched an episode of Lost. I didn’t pack. It was great.

This much I know: I have to get into a place. I need to own a property. I’ve come this far, I can’t stop now. It might suck for a while, this part might be really, really hard, but I just have to get through it.

I didn’t like the way I felt yesterday. I’m going to try to avoid that as much as possible. I need more sleep, boy howdy do I. I need more baths. More ice cream wouldn’t hurt. More time to pack, but I’m not going to get that, so I have to do the best I can with what I’ve got.

This housing thing ain’t for the weak, is it? They’d get tromped into the mud. Sheesh. But really, truly, I’m all right, and my heart is stronger now. It’ll work out for the best.

Aren’t you tired of hearing all about this? Cromarty is put together! She needs neckbands, and we’ll be havin’ a party. Speaking of parties, if you’re in the Bay Area, Becca’s having a KIP get-together tomorrow. I can’t make it, but maybe some of y’all can?

Peace, love, out. I’ll let you know when I hear more.
MWAH! (typo: MWHAT — twice.)

I just re-read yesterday’s post. I’m Luke’s favorite lay-dee. Does anyone besides me hear Andre the Giant saying, “Hello, lay-dee,” whenever you read/hear that?

I’m done with the body of Cromarty! (I’m tired; I just typed a question mark after that instead of the exclamation mark it deserved. And then that had the power to make me doubt myself. Did I? Finish the body? Yes, yes, I did.) So I’ll start seaming tonight, and then I have to do the cabled neckbands and attach ’em and she’ll be done. You know when you’re reading that *really* good book and it’s about to end and you feel the end-of-book-remorse? I’m starting to feel that. Alice Starmore, she might sing her siren song again…. Or Dale. I could use a Dale. I can’t *afford* a Dale, but I could use one. Humm. Color. I might be in the mood for COLOR next. Something in Svale. But cables, they’re what I love. Oh, the options. And I’m convinced I want to do a lo-tech sweat in Lion Brand Homespun, taking my cue from our beloved Ryan. Serve me up some Crapyarn. I’m ready. No lie, I added up the expense of the yarn in Cromarty and the labor involved, and it was well over three grand, and that was a while ago. I need a nice seventeen dollar sweater, stat.

That is all. I’m going to see the Old 97’s tomorrow night at the Fillmore with my gal. We have a Date, o joy. And then I’ll run ten measly miles on Sunday and then pack a whole hell of a lot. I’ve got to get on it. Still nothing heard about the loan. Zenning it now. All good.

Happy weekend to you! (Didn’t I *just* say that? Time flies.) (Sometimes cliches make me very happy, something to do with a phrase’s kitsch value.)